The Thief and the Lecher
by Mirage159
Summary: During the six months after Lassarina abandoned the Companions, Thieves Guild, and her family, she met a Bosmer named Finverior. They knew nothing about each other, but after one drunken, drug-hazed night, they became partners in crime. This is the story of the six months when neither of them had any responsibility. No worries, and no cares... Just fun.
1. Chapter 1

_So this is a collaboration between me and my good friend and fellow fanfiction author, **BrunetteAuthorette99.**__We always love talking about Finverior and the shit he's done in his past, more than once we've thought about the shit he and Lassarina did in their six months together, robbing Skyrim blind. A discussion of my latest chapter of **Two Halves: Sovngarde Beckons **finally made us want to write it. So the way this is going to work, Brunette and I will each take turn writing a chapter, but each one will be published on my page, since its set in my Dragonborn world._

_We both hope you enjoy this little spinoff. It's a way for us to relax from the stress our main stories bring to the table._

* * *

**CHAPTER I – Codependence**

When Finverior finally woke up, he was surprised to find that it was a beautiful morning; the sun was just coming up over the mountains, the temperature was above freezing, and best of all, there was no snow in sight. Best of all, he woke up underneath some warm furs and between two gorgeous, naked women curled up next to him.

He smiled to himself. A good way to start the day.

As stealthily as he could, the Bosmer wormed his way out from his companions' embraces and the weight of the furs and half-crawled and half-stumbled out of the tent, remembering at the last second to grab his trousers and pull them on. Rubbing his eyes, he knelt by the stream running by the hunters' camp and splashed some water on his face; the cold water jerked him out of his drowsiness.

Finverior crept around the camp to retrieve the rest of his clothing – shirt, vest, belt, boots, cloak – pulling it all on as he found it. His personal effects were still by the remnants of last night's fire, so he slung the bow and quiver of arrows back onto his back and slid the sheathed daggers back onto his belt. He checked his satchel, ensuring that his coin purse, a few assorted potions and poisons, and the carefully wrapped vials of skooma were all still there.

Snatching up a partly stale loaf of bread from a basket of dried food on the rocks nearby, he cast one longing look towards the tent. The two hunters had been more than happy to entertain a traveler the night before – in more ways than one – and he wouldn't have minded waking them up for a quick tumble before they parted ways.

_Unfortunately, I'd like to get to Falkreath before nightfall._ He sighed and turned away, munching on the loaf of bread. _Skooma doesn't deal itself._

Suddenly, he noticed the horse with its reins tied to a tree branch, pawing the ground and whickering softly at the edge of the camp site. Somehow sensing his gaze, it turned its eyes to him.

Finverior smiled, a new idea forming in his head.

**oOo**

Shutting the door behind him to keep out the chilly breeze, Finverior scanned the Dead Man's Drink. There weren't too many patrons in here tonight – or probably any night, for that matter, he thought wryly. Falkreath's hardly a bustling metropolis.

The Bosmer thought of the stolen horse tied up to the rail outside; even though he'd gotten to the hold capital in better time than he'd thought possible, it unfortunately seemed that there was nothing here for him anyway. From what he'd witnessed of the people here, they didn't seem amenable to purchasing something to rid them of their troubles and cares for a while.

_Wouldn't hurt them any_, Finverior chuckled to himself, but sobered. He'd been running low on coin for weeks, and he needed to do something to get him back on his feet, be it stealing or selling himself or even skooma dealing; he hadn't done the latter since leaving Cyrodiil and the drug wars in Bravil, and with the amount of skooma he was carrying, he kept expecting someone to come up and put a shiv in his back and take the lot.

But the fact of the matter remained that he his luck turned around as quickly as possible. _And I'm sure as Oblivion not going to find any opportunities here._

He took another look around the bar, as if to prove his point to himself. A few worn-out farmers huddled over their mead at a table in the corner... a heavily rouged barmaid leaning up against the bar, talking to a tired-looking bartender... and a petite, slim figure sitting alone – a woman sitting alone.

The Bosmer perked up a bit, smiling to himself. _Maybe this night won't be as much of a waste of time as I thought._

He slipped closer to the table, trying to discern more about her; however, with her pitch-black armor that fit to her body like a glove, it was as if the woman was part of the shadows herself. But as he watched, her hand fell away from the tankard of mead she was holding, and the woman buried her face in her hands, quietly weeping.

A crying woman... should be an easy sell. He strolled over casually enough, and took a seat at her table, leaning back in his chair. "What's wrong, lovely lady? Someone break your heart?"

The woman looked up, her eyes red and tear tracks streaking down her face. Even with the signs of her sorrow, Finverior could see that she was clearly attractive: heart-shaped face, pale blue almond-shaped eyes, shoulder-length auburn hair.

She glared at him, though it seemed a bit subdued. "Not interested." She took another swig from her tankard. "Go try your luck somewhere else."

"Sorry, but once Finverior sees a pretty girl crying, he can't help but try and comfort her in any way he can." He smiled charmingly.

"And I assume you're Finverior?"

"The pretty girl assumes correctly. Now, tell me, love –" he propped up his elbows on the table and leaned forward a bit "– what's troubling you?"

Her glare was fiercer this time. "None of your gods-damned business."

The Bosmer chuckled, raising an eyebrow. _This one's got spirit. I like her already._ "I can see your grief as plainly as your eyes are blue. You also look weary." He lowered his voice, making it a bit more soothing and persuasive. "I have something to help you relax, if you're interested."

"Already have my mead." Her fingers curled around her tankard possessively.

"I can see that, but mead can only do so much," he said. "What I'm offering you is the finest skooma, the sweetest moon sugar."

The woman's eyes widened. "Skooma?" she echoed. "You – you mean the drug?"

He nodded slowly, feeling his smile grow. "Some call it a drug. I call it a way to let loose... to forget your troubles."

With the flair of a magician, Finverior pulled out a single vial of skooma – fished out from his satchel and unwrapped during his pitch – and rolled it between his fingers and the table top, all the while gazing at her, trying to gauge her reaction. Her head was down, but her hand left her tankard and reached out for the vial, as if she were in a dream. He grasped her wrist, and it seemed to bring her out of her stupor.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with pain and want. "How much?" she asked softly.

"For you, beautiful, the first one is on the house." He passed it to her before he could change his mind about the pricing. "Enjoy."

The woman uncorked the vial and raised it to her lips, but then she glanced archly over at him. "You're going to make a lady drink alone?"

The Bosmer laughed quietly and pulled out another vial from his satchel for himself. He uncorked it and drank, relishing the sweetness on his tongue. _Good batch. I can hardly tell my own from what I bought from the Khajiit._

He glanced over at the woman, who was staring at her own empty vial. The tears were drying on her face and she already looked a bit brighter, more lively.

She met his gaze, and he grinned at her. "So what's your name, beautiful?"

The woman returned his smirk, leaning back in her chair. "Lassarina."

"Lassarina," he repeated, placing emphasis on each syllable. "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman." His smile broadened even further. "Feel like having some fun?"

oOo

When Finverior finally woke up, he was surprised to find himself in a narrow bed – without anyone sleeping next to him, no less – in an equally narrow and dusty room. There was no window to let natural light in, but there was a candle on his bedside table that flickered in the dim light.

The Bosmer sat up, rubbing his forehead, already feeling the throbbing headache that heralded a hangover. _I must have had a lot to drink last night to warrant that, he thought wryly. What was the occasion?_

"You're awake."

He glanced over, squinting his bleary eyes at the nearby chair. A petite, slim woman in black leather armor that highlighted her curves was leaning back in it, her auburn hair lying around her shoulders in tangles.

_She looks familiar_... Finverior pointed at her, trying to place her. "Lassarina, right? That is your name, beautiful?"

She stared at him coolly with pale-blue eyes. "You don't remember anything?"

"My mind's not exactly functional first thing in the morning. Besides, I take my sweet time getting up, princess." He stretched his arms upwards, noting that he was shirtless; judging by the fur blanket draped over his lap, he was willing to bet he was pants-less as well. "Unlike you. Look at you: all dressed and ready to leave me." The Bosmer gave her a mock-sad look.

Her gaze hardened. "We didn't sleep together – though not for lack of you trying."

"Pity." He shrugged, dropping his arms. "So enlighten me, beautiful: what did happen?"

"We drank together – you much more than I did. We talked, we laughed. You sang at one point." Lassarina smiled slightly, but it faded. "And – and you sold me some skooma."

_Now it's coming back to me_. Finverior nodded knowingly. "And now you want more?"

He could practically see her facade of strength crumbling. "Yes. I do, I do –" She stopped, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the words she'd uttered. "But I – I gave you what coin I had last night for the other vials. I don't have any more."

The Bosmer regarded her for a moment. Then he grinned. "Well, there's always ways to get more money, sweetheart. Just as many ways as there are to spend it."

Lassarina laughed, and he got a glimpse of the kind of woman she'd been the night before: bright and beautiful like a falling star, and falling just as fast. "Oh, I know. You don't think I know a thief when I see one?" she said teasingly.

He raised his hands in false surrender. "You've got me there, beautiful. I didn't know you were with the Guild, though," he added, gesturing to her armor. "Don't exactly look like you run with them – no slight meant."

Her good humor faded again. "You're not with the Guild, are you?" she asked suspiciously, her eyes worried.

"Me? Nah. I prefer to carry out my criminal activities on my own," Finverior chuckled. "It's easier than having an army of superiors breathing down my back."

Lassarina pursed her lips in thought, now pensive. Then: "I don't suppose you have room for one more, do you?"

The Bosmer raised an eyebrow. "You want to travel with me?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded.

He whistled in astonishment. _Well, well. I'm beginning to be very glad that I stopped in Falkreath._ "It isn't every day a beautiful thief like yourself wants to be partners with a sleazy deadbeat like me," he said, flashing her a lecherous grin.

"I have some rules, though," Lassarina interrupted warningly, putting up one finger. "One: don't try to sleep with me."

Finverior was about to protest, but underneath her glare, he settled for sighing dramatically. "Oh, fine. I hope you do realize I'm bound to slip up every now and then, though."

She ignored him. "Two: you try and steal from me, and I'll kill you."

"C'mon, princess. I'm not that desperate for coin that I'd steal from a fellow thief."

She snorted, tossing her head a bit. "Three: you don't ask about me, or what I do, or my past, or anything."

His eyebrow went a little higher. "You're not exactly in upstanding company, beautiful. I doubt you're any worse than me."

Lassarina swallowed. "Four," she continued, her voice shaking, "we don't set foot in Whiterun – and you don't ask why," she added.

"Are you quite done yet?" he asked dryly.

"Aye, I am." Her eyes bored into him. "Do you agree?"

The Bosmer shrugged. "Fine, fine. Whatever you say. Say," he continued, "you don't mind being called 'Rina,' do you?"

She shook her head stiffly. "No." Some of the ice in her demeanor melted again. "Not if you don't mind being called 'Finn.'"

"Nah. All of my friends call me 'Finn.'" He grinned, holding out his hand. "Ready to get this show on the road? I couldn't help but notice that Jarl Siddgeir has some very nice jewelry that needs to be liberated from him."

A small smile curving her lips, Lassarina shook his hand. "That sounds like a good place to start."

* * *

_This Chapter was written by _**_BrunetteAuthorette99._**

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more of Lassarina and Finverior's adventures through Skyrim! Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review **and as always, we appreciate the support and love we get from our loyal readers!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's the next chapter!_

_Again this is a collaboration between me and my good friend and fellow fanfiction author, **BrunetteAuthorette99.**__We always love talking about Finverior and the shit he's done in his past, more than once we've thought about the shit he and Lassarina did in their six months together, robbing Skyrim blind. A discussion of my latest chapter of **Two Halves: Sovngarde Beckons **finally made us want to write it. So the way this is going to work, Brunette and I will each take turn writing a chapter, but each one will be published on my page, since its set in my Dragonborn world._

_We both hope you enjoy this little spinoff. It's a way for us to relax from the stress our main stories bring to the table._

* * *

**Chapter Two- The Heist**

Lassarina sat on top of the roof of the blacksmith's house, waiting for the Bosmer named Finverior to show up for their heist. They had decided to meet after sunset so they could each take care of some business before robbing the Jarl, but she only used that as an excuse to get away from the lecherous man. While the night before had been fun, she didn't appreciate him constantly trying to feel her up with cheap moves; an arm over the shoulder, his knuckles "accidentally" brushing against her arse or breasts. Then he topped it all off by stripping down to his skin right in front of her and laying on her bed, coaxing her into joining him right before passing out. She had thrown a fur blanket over him and ended up sleeping on the floor.

So while he had been taking care of some business, Lassarina wandered over to Gray Pine Goods and purchased one apple while discreetly stealing five more. Then she had moved to the roof and taken a vial of skooma, spending the rest of the day eating apples and enjoying the warmth of the sun while her mind drifted and wandered in her drugged stupor. The quiet time alone had given her a lot of time to think about the partnership she struck up with Finverior, and whether or not it was a good idea. The man was clearly a sleazy deadbeat if he was going around peddling skooma to unsuspecting people.

_You mean like yourself?_ Lassarina's conscience lectured her. _You made yourself vulnerable and bought every single vial he had._

_I had a moment of weakness_, she argued back to herself._ I just needed one night that would help me forget._

_Like you had in Markarth?_

Lassarina flinched as she thought about that horrible mistake. She had been so overwhelmed by her grief that she went and did something as stupid as getting drunk and sleeping with some random man that happened to be nearby.

_It won't happen again_, she promised herself._ I'm not going to be that stupid again._

_Then why did you agree to be partners with the skooma-dealer?_ Her conscience demanded.

Lassarina bit down on her lip and clenched her hands around the apple she was holding. _Because . . . I need more skooma._

"You going to eat that, gorgeous?" asked a voice beside her.

Blinking, Lassarina looked up and saw Finverior standing over her, staring at the apple hungrily. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't even heard the wood elf approach._ So much for my werewolf senses._

Shaking her head, Lassarina tossed the apple to him. "Nay, help yourself."

Finverior nodded appreciatively and took a seat beside her as he bit into the juicy fruit. "Been waiting long?"

"Just a few minutes," she lied. "Did you finish taking care of your business?"

He grunted around a mouthful and hastily swallowed. "Couldn't find a single invisibility potion in this whole town. Tried finding the ingredients to make some, but good luck finding something as simple as nirnroot or luna moth wings." He looked to her expectantly. "You wouldn't happen to have any, would you?"

"Nay, I don't use invisibility potions. Don't need them."

"Well, aren't you confident in your abilities."

She glared at him and nodded to the jarl's longhouse. "Are we doing this or not?"

"Just give the word, sweetheart."

Lassarina stood up and surveyed the streets; empty aside from the lone guard that patrolled with a torch in hand. Once he had passed, the could jump down from the roof and walk in the front door . . . or they could do something else. Nocturnal must have been looking out for her champion, because straight ahead she saw that someone had left one of the small windows open. She was just thin enough to be able to slip in through there, and Finverior might be able to as well.

"Thank the gods you're thin," she told him.

He arched a brow at her. "Why do you say that?"

"Because we're going in through that window right there."

Without waiting for him to agree, Lassarina jumped down from the roof and landed on the ground below. She quietly ran across the street and over to the pine tree that grew beside the longhouse and was the perfect height to climb and jump onto the roof. She made it up the tree easily, having gotten plenty of practice during her childhood, whenever she went hunting for her adopted family and had to escape the occasional pack of wolves or stray bear. She was barely on the roof for a moment when Finverior jumped out of the tree and landed beside her.

"Not bad," she praised him. "Thought that might have taken you longer."

"Honey, I'm a Bosmer, a_ wood elf_. I was traveling across forests without touching the ground long before you were a twinkle in your father's eye," he told her, his voice slightly insulted.

"How old are you?"

He chuckled and grinned at her. "I didn't get to where I am in life by revealing my age. Let's just say I'm definitely older than you. What about you? How old are you?"

"Rule number three, Finn: you don't ask about me, or what I do, or my past, or anything."

"Aww, come on, if we're going to be partners, I should at least know your age."

Lassarina sighed and looked at him for a moment before answering, "I'm twenty-one. Alright?"

"See, was that so hard?"

"Let's just get this done."

Pulling on the hood of her cloak and her mask, Lassarina crept over to the open window and grabbed onto the framing above, slipping in feet first. There wasn't any floor for her to land on, but there was a support beam so she balanced herself on that. Looking down at the hall below, she saw that the jarl's throne was empty and there were only a couple of guards standing around. Finverior managed to squeeze through right behind her and she held onto his arm as he found his balance on the beam. He looked around for a moment before turning to glare at her.

"I'm already seeing this ending very badly," he whispered. "We can't get down there with those guards standing around."

"There's nothing worth stealing down there," she whispered back. "All the good stuff is always inside the jarl's bedroom."

"You mean the bedroom he's probably already sleeping in?"

"Nay, it sounds like he's definitely awake. Has a woman in there with him," she added with a chuckle, hearing the moans of pleasure with her superior hearing.

Finverior gave her a confused look. "How do you know he's got a woman in there with him?"

Lassarina stiffened a bit, completely forgetting she wasn't with someone who knew what she was. Thinking quickly, she said, "I have good hearing. If you listen really hard, you'll be able to hear them too."

Luckily for her, the woman the jarl had with him choose to cry out very loudly at that moment, making Finverior grin and wiggle his eyebrows. "Play your cards right, and that could be you and me."

She shot him a glare, but didn't say anything to him as she walked along the support beams towards the jarl's bedroom. Once she was close to the railed landing, she easily jumped over and swung her leg over, crouching beside the door and waiting for Finverior to join her. The sounds of passion were much more obvious now and her Bosmer companion shook his head.

"You really can't be thinking of going in there, they're wide awake and they'll spot you right away," he hissed between his teeth.

"If you're scared, stay out here and keep a look-out," she sneered. "I'll be in and out with all his jewels in less than a minute."

Finverior raked his fingers through his hair and let out a sigh of frustration. "Fine, but if something goes wrong in there, you're on your own."

"Duly noted," Lassarina muttered before opening the door and slipping in.

Again, lady luck was on her side. The room was completely dark and Jarl Siddgeir had his back to her as he pleasured the woman beneath him. Lassarina ignored him as she crept over to a lock box that was on top of a nearby dresser and picked the lock easily. Inside were several necklaces, rings, and even a couple of circlets, all which Lassarina took from the box and placed inside a small satchel. She wasn't going to try her luck and keep searching about the room while Siddgeir was wide awake, so she made her way to the door and let herself out. Finverior was out there waiting and his jaw dropped when he saw the satchel in her hands.

"How did you manage to do that?" he asked her.

"A good thief never reveals her secrets," she replied, handing him the satchel. "And since I'm the one that stole all of that, you'll be the one to carry it and fence it. I want the larger cut too."

"Demanding, aren't you?"

"Only when I do all the work."

The Bosmer rolled his eyes but said nothing as he slung the satchel around his shoulders. Lassarina saw what was about to happen the second before it did, and she couldn't stop it. One of Finn's daggers got caught on the satchel and easily cut into it, causing all the smaller items to fall out and clatter onto the floor loudly. Finverior looked down at the ground in horror, realizing what had just happened and Lassarina took that moment to do what she had to do. She used her Shadowcloak of Nocturnal and disappeared.

**oOo**

When Finverior looked back up to Lassarina, he was shocked to find she had disappeared. Shocked, he looked around trying to find her, all while whispering her name loudly.

"Lassarina!"

She didn't answer him back, but he did hear the sound of footsteps approaching from below and from inside the bedroom. Before he could even think, the door to the bedroom opened and Jarl Siddgeir was standing there, dressed only in trousers and wielding a sword in his hand. He looked at Finverior and then at the rings and necklaces on the floor.

"Guards!" he shouted loudly. "Thief!"

The guards had already been storming up the stairs and a sword was being pressed into his back before he had the chance to try and escape by jumping across the railing and down to the first floor. Swearing under his breath, Finverior lifted his hands in the air, showing he surrendered.

"You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people," the guard behind him said. "What say you in your defense?"

Finverior sighed heavily and looked around one last time for Lassarina. Nowhere to be seen. _Shows what I get for trusting a pretty face._

"You got me . . . take me to jail."

**oOo**

Finverior stood leaning against the wall in a cell filled waist-deep with water, fighting the urge to fall asleep. While there were other cell, cells that were visibly free of water, Jarl Siddgeir had been adamant when he ordered the guards to throw Finverior into the Pit, openly saying he hoped that he drowned. He had been charged with breaking-and-entering and stealing and had been standing in the Pit for a whole day now, cursing Lassarina the entire time.

_Shows what I get for trusting a thief_, he thought to himself. _For trusting a damned woman._

He was positively boiling with rage from the little bitch leaving him back there to take the fall for everything. She had even lied about not having any invisibility potions; it was the only way to explain how she had managed to disappear so quickly without anyone seeing her. The first thing he was going to do when he got out was track her down. Already he had several ideas on how to make her pay rolling around in his head.

_Maybe I'll frame her for something. See how she likes being in a jail cell._

Walking over to the cell doors, Finverior grabbed onto the bars and tried to see if there was a guard around. "If you're going to leave me in here to drown, the least you can do is give me something to eat first! Who knows, I might get a cramp and drown sooner!"

"Shut up, thief!" shouted a guard from down the hall.

Finverior snorted and waded back to the other side of the cell, leaning against the wall and looking up at the sky above, obstructed only slightly by the grating that caged him in. The sun had long since set and he had been awake far too long. If he didn't get any sleep soon, he might honestly go mad. Suddenly, he heard a persistent clicking sound and looked at the cell door. There was no one there, but it sounded like someone was trying to pick the lock. Wading back through the water, he reached the door just as it swung open, offering him his freedom.

"What in Oblivion?" he muttered, looking around cautiously. _Well, best not waste this opportunity._

Finverior made his was down the hall and stepped into the main cell block, where a guard was sitting at a table, eating a plate of bread and cheese. He glanced up at the sound of footsteps and glared at the sight of the Bosmer.

"How'd you get out of your cell?" he demanded, pulling out his sword and advancing on him.

_Shit,_ Finverior thought to himself, looking around for anything he could use as a weapon.

But the guard suddenly let out a grunt of pain and fell to the floor. Shocked, Finverior walked over and knelt beside the man, noticing blood beginning to pool just under his head. When he lifted the man's head, he saw an ebony arrow wedged deep within his skull. It had killed him instantly.

"I must have a god watching over me," he whispered in amazement, standing up and looking up at the ceiling.

"Nay, just a really good thief."

Finverior jumped at the sound of her voice and turned around to see Lassarina standing there, still dressed in the midnight-black armor and holding an impressive looking bow in her hands. She pulled the hood and mask off and shook out her hair before smiling at him.

"Are you just going to stand there gaping at me all day?" she asked him. "Hurry up, grab your things and let's get moving. The distraction I caused isn't going to keep the guards away forever."

"You little bitch!" he growled at her. "You completely let me take the fall back there! You just left me!"

"It wouldn't have done either of us any good if we had both gotten caught. I knew I would be able to break you out, so I left while I had the chance."

Finverior scoffed and walked over to the chest where all his belongings had been stored. He quickly pulled on his armor and retrieved his weapons, gold and potions before glaring back at Lassarina, who had moved to the stairs and was waiting on him to move.

"Come on, the entire barracks is empty right now," she told him. "I lured a bear into town, but it'll only be able to keep them busy for a little while."

"They're going to think I killed this guard you know!" he shouted. "I'm going to have a bounty on my head!"

She shrugged and pulled her mask back on. "Tell you what, I'll pay it off for you one day. Promise."

"Yeah right, like I can trust whatever it you say."

"Hey, I may have abandoned you, but I came back, didn't I?"

"Whatever, let's get going."

Lassarina led the way and he kept close as they walked out of the barracks and over toward the northern gates. He could hear the sound of people shouting near the direction of the southern gates and occasionally heard a bear snarl. They both ran through the streets and kept running even when they were outside the city. They ran into the forest and only stopped running when they reached a clearing, both of them exhausted and panting heavily.

"I think we're safe," she said, gasping for air.

Finverior glared at her, his eyes glittering with anger as he stalked over to her and grabbed her by the throat. "You sure about that?"

* * *

_This Chapter was written by _**_Mirage159._**

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more of Lassarina and Finverior's adventures through Skyrim! Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review **and as always, we appreciate the support and love we get from our loyal readers!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Here's the next chapter! Left you on a cliffhanger last time didn't we? Brunny and I both wrote this chapter together. She started it, and I finished it!_

_Again this is a collaboration between me and my good friend and fellow fanfiction author, **BrunetteAuthorette99. **__We always love talking about Finverior and the shit he's done in his past, more than once we've thought about the shit he and Lassarina did in their six months together, robbing Skyrim blind. So the way this is going to work, Brunette and I will each take turn writing a chapter, but each one will be published on my page, since its set in my Dragonborn world._

_We both hope you enjoy this little spinoff. It's a way for us to relax from the stress our main stories bring to the table._

* * *

**CHAPTER III – Disagreement**

It happened faster than he could blink. One minute, he had Lassarina by the throat, and the next, she had seized his arm and twisted it behind his back with surprising strength. Finverior nearly went down to his knees, but he managed to jerk his arm away; she stepped back, her eyes wary.

"What in Oblivion was _that_ for?" he spat, rubbing his throbbing shoulder.

"_That_ was for nearly choking me," she pointed out tartly.

"No, not you yanking my arm out of my socket!" the Bosmer snapped, throwing his satchel down to the ground. "I was talking about you leaving me to go take a dip in the Pit all on my own!"

"I'm sorry, Finn. I really am. But –" the Nord looked down at her feet "– it was instinct."

"Instinct, my ass!" He jabbed an accusing finger at her. "You held out on me. You had invisibility potions and you didn't fucking tell me!"

"That's not true!" Lassarina protested. "I don't have any invisibility potions; you can even check my pack if you want." She held her knapsack out to him.

Finverior snorted, plopping down on a felled log nearby. "Like you're going to have any in there." He summoned a healing spell in one hand and pressed the orb of golden light to his shoulder, wincing at the tingling running through his sore muscles.

The Nord chewed on her lip nervously. "Are – are you all right?"

He sighed irritably. "No thanks to you, princess." The Bosmer let his hand fall and moved his shoulder experimentally; it felt better already, but it didn't lighten his mood any. "Little slip of a thing like you shouldn't be that strong."

Lassarina almost smiled, but it was strained. "I – I have hidden talents."

"Like turning invisible? Like hearing through walls? Yeah, I noticed that; I'm not stupid as you think I am, honey," he continued, cutting her off. "There's no way in Oblivion that you're just another thief."

"I don't think you're stupid, Finn," the Nord said quietly.

"Then what do you think I am?" Finverior snapped, crossing his arms.

"Right now, I think you're overreacting," she countered. "It's not like I left you to rot in jail. I came back for you!"

"Yeah, well, this is one instance where the thought doesn't count, darling," the Bosmer said sarcastically. "You ever been betrayed?"

Lassarina flinched as though he'd slapped her across the face. Eyes not meeting his, she nodded slowly.

"Then you know that there isn't much that can make it right." He didn't have the strength to be angry anymore, so his words just came out cold. "Not a kindness, not a favor, not even revenge. The betrayal always stays with you."

The Nord was silent for a long time. Then she finally lifted her head. "Are we camping out here tonight?"

Finverior sighed, all of the breath coming out of him in one sharp gust. "I suppose so, seeing as there's no way in Oblivion I can set foot in Falkreath."

She nodded. "I'll – I'll see if I can find some firewood then." Her face was composed, but her eyes were still hurt.

**oOo**

Finverior stretched out his legs and shifted his position on the log he was sitting on, wrapping his cloak around him a little more securely. He'd volunteered to take the first watch; after the events of the night, he didn't feel much like sleeping anyway.

But now the Bosmer could feel his eyes drooping, heavy with fatigue, and he was reminded of all the time he'd spent standing up in the Pit. Now he could use some rest.

Swinging his legs over to the other side of the log, he glanced over at the small camp behind him. Beyond the embers of their fire lay Lassarina, curled up in her bedroll with her back to him. Finverior stood, stretching slightly.

Just then, the Nord shifted in her sleep, rolling over onto her other side. He glimpsed her face in the dim early-morning light, and was surprised to see it drawn and pained, her mouth slightly open as if to call out to someone.

"Vilkas..." she murmured. "I'm sorry. Oh, I'm so sorry, my love –" Her voice hitched and a sob came out instead. "Kodlak –" Tears started to creep down her face.

The Bosmer hesitated. He found himself turning away and sitting down. Behind him, Lassarina's weeping faded into despairing moans. He did his best to ignore the sounds of her grief, not sure whether or not she would appreciate him waking her – he'd honestly rather not get his arm twisted behind his back again.

_Her arms are thinner than mine, how in Oblivion can she be that strong? _he secretly wondered to himself. _And how did she manage to pull of that little invisible trick? Maybe I should check her pack._

He grunted and decided against it, still figuring if she _did _have any potions that they were probably long gone now. Instead he just stared up at the sky, slowly turning milky and preparing for the approaching dawn. It only made him more aware of how little sleep he had gotten. He was just beginning to nod off when Lassarina suddenly started screaming in terror behind him.

Finverior jumped to his feet, drawing his daggers and turning to face whatever it was that was threatening her, but saw nothing. All he saw was his companion thrashing around her bedroll, screaming and clutching her blankets. He was completely alarmed and shocked at the sight and walked over to her, surprised to find she was still asleep. _This must be one terrifying nightmare._

"Please!" she shrieked. "No! Stay away! Help me!"

Finverior couldn't let this continue any longer. "Lassarina! Wake up!"

Her eyes flew open and she let out a strangled gasp as she sat up, trying desperately to take a breath while trying to speak at the same time. "Stay-" gasp "-stay away!"

"Calm down!" he practically shouted at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her hard. "It's just a nightmare! You're fine!"

Her pale-blue eyes cleared a bit and she started to look around the camp and even up at the sky, managing to catch her breath and breathe more evenly. When she saw that whatever had been tormenting her in her nightmare wasn't around, her eyes went down to her stomach and she placed both hands over it. The all too familiar look of pain and loss flood her features and she drew her knees to her chest, resting her forehead on them.

"Gods woman, it sounded like you were getting murdered," he muttered, a bit shaken up. "What in Oblivion were you dreaming of that made you scream out like that?"

She looked up and glared at him. "None of your damned business."

He scoffed. "Right, I'm not having any of that. I'll ask you one more time: what were you dreaming-"

"I said it's none of your business!" she snarled, cutting him off.

Finverior's eyes widened and he crawled back a bit. Her harsh words almost sounded like an actual snarl from some sort of animal and reverberated around them. Not only that, but her eyes, for just a brief second, had looked completely different. In other words, not human.

_Who in Oblivion did I mix myself up with?_

"Alright, alright," he said to her as calmly as possible. "I'll stop asking questions, but you need to calm down. You just gave me a bit of a scare, gorgeous. Normally when someone screams like that, it's cause they're getting murdered."

"It was just a nightmare," she muttered, rubbing her temples with her fingertips. "I tend to get them a lot these days."

He reached for he pack and pulled out one of the vials of skooma he had sold to her. While he had been rummaging through it, he wasn't surprised to find that there weren't any invisibility potions, however, he was _very _surprised to find Jarl Siddgeir's jewels tucked safely into one of the inner pockets. Pulling out one of the gold necklaces, he shot her a look of surprise.

"I went back for them," she told him with a sad smile. "Thought it might help my apology."

His lips twitched up just a bit and he nodded. "You thought right. If we can fence this, we won't have to worry about coin for a while."

"I know a fence, but he lives just outside Whiterun."

"And not stepping foot in Whiterun is one of your rules."

She nodded her head. "Right. I don't want to run into-" she stopped and saved herself. "Doesn't matter. It isn't important."

He gave her a sly grin. "If it isn't important, then you can tell me."

"Aye, that'll happen. Look, I have a massive headache right now, so could you please just leave me alone?"

"Here, take some skooma, it'll relax you."

"Is that a good idea, since I'm taking the next watch?"

"There's a stream nearby," he told her, placing the vial in her palm. "Take half of this and go wash your face with some cold water. Then you can relieve me and _I _can get some sleep."

She sighed, but nodded and uncorked the vial, drinking half its contents quickly. Getting out of her bedroll, she stretched her limbs and headed over to the stream. Finverior checked out her arse as she walked away, giving a little hum of appreciation.

_She may have ditched me, but I'm not made of stone, _he rationalized.

The Bosmer thought his pretty Nord companion would only take a few moments at the stream, but after ten minutes of waiting for her to return, he swore under his breath and got up to see if she was alright. Weaving his way around the bushes and trees, he found that not only was she alright but she had decided she'd strip off all her armor and give herself a bath. He quickly hid behind one of the trees and watched, shamefully perverted as it was, as the Nord beauty dunked her head under the water for a few second before surfacing and standing up. He had to suck in a breath when he saw her back. Finverior had been expecting to see smooth skin traveling all the way down to a lovely, heart-shaped, behind, but instead he saw that her back was laced with several scars, most likely the cause of lashings.

_Dibella's tits, _he frowned.

She turned around and was wading out of the water, giving him a clear view of the front of her body. It was worse than her back. On one arm she had what looked like a jagged puncture wound and a puckered arrow wound just over her breast that appeared to be recent. Below the same breast a long slash mark traveled across her stomach and down to her hip bone, looking very recent as well. An stab wound scar lay beside her navel and her calve was burned badly. Lassarina looked like a woman who had seen far too much violence in her short life. Frowning heavily, he quietly left the tree and made his way back to the camp, having seen enough. He'll pretend like he saw nothing and start thinking of more discreet ways of discovering her history. There was definitely an interesting story behind Lassarina.

_And I'm going to find out, no matter what._

* * *

_This Chapter was written by **BrunetteAuthorette 99 & **_**_Mirage159._**

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more of Lassarina and Finverior's adventures through Skyrim! Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review **and as always, we appreciate the support and love we get from our loyal readers!_


	4. Chapter 4

_This Chapter involves drug-use. I do not, in any way, condone the use of drugs and do not think that it is safe for anyone to experiment with them. Based on observations, I've come to realize that skooma is basically the Elder Scroll's version of Crystal Meth and have written the use of it thusly, using Breaking Bad as a reference on how the drug is taken._

_I hope you enjoy this chapter. Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review!**_

* * *

**Chapter IV – Sweetness**

Lassarina knelt beside Finverior's sleeping form and gently shook his shoulder. "Finn, it's time to wake up."

A groan escaped him and he threw an arm over his eyes to shield them from the morning light. "Can't be, I just got to sleep."

She sighed and shook him again. "Come on, get your lazy ass up. We should get moving."

"Better idea–" he reached out with his free hand and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her down to him. "– let's play my favorite game. I call it, 'Sheath the Sword.' I'll be the sword and you be the sheath."

As he spoke, his lips moved across the soft skin of her neck and his other hand groped her breast. With a growl rumbling in her throat, Lassarina moved one hand down and punched him in the gut as hard as she could. He immediately released her and sat up, wrapping his arms around his own stomach.

"Gods damn it, woman!" he snapped at her. "Where in Oblivion do you get that kind of strength?"

"What I can't understand is that you know how strong I am, but still try and get me to sleep with you!" she spat, standing up and kicking dirt over the fire they lit the night before. "I thought I've made it blatantly clear that I'm not interested."

"And I thought that _I _made it clear that I was going to slip up every now and then."

She snorted and glared at him as he got up and starting folding up his bedroll. "You've been slipping up every morning for the past two weeks!"

"And every morning you cause me bodily harm. Really, Rina, you should just let me work my magic on you. I've been known to give a woman amnesia."

Lassarina just shook her head and turned back to her belongings. She had been taking inventory of all of their supplies, checking on what they were low on. Thankfully, they had plenty of dried venison, courtesy of a nice buck Lassarina had hunted down a few days ago. Their skins were filled with water and they had plenty of healing potions. The only thing they _were _low on was skooma. She had drank the last of what she bought from Finverior a couple nights ago and now her nerves were starting to get to her, her whole body craving more of the sweet drug.

"Why'd you change out of your black armor?" Finverior asked her.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and then looked down at what she was currently wearing. Her cravings had caused her body temperature to increase a bit so she had changed out of her Nightingale armor and into her hunting gear; a russet colored jerkin, tan hide pants, and warm fur boots. She also had some leather gloves she liked to wear, but hadn't gotten around to putting them on yet.

"It's a little warm out today," she told Finn with a shrug. "That armor gets a little too warm sometimes."

She saw his eyes stray to the jagged puncture wound on her arm, caused by a dragon a few months ago. "Nasty looking scar. How'd you get it?"

Lassarina smiled wryly. "I fought a dragon and its mighty jaws nearly tore my arm clean off."

Finverior snorted and dug through his satchel for an apple. "It's fine if you don't want to tell me, just don't make up ridiculous stories."

"Aww, but they're so much fun!"

"I don't know how you can consider this weather warm either. I mean, it's not unbearably cold, but there's still a chill in the air. How do you Nords stand it?"

"We're built for the cold, Finn. It's why we've thrived in Skyrim and every other race is shaking in their boots from the slightest breeze." She closed up her knapsack and slung it over her shoulders. "So we're good on food and potions, but we're completely out of skooma and it wouldn't hurt if we had some more arrows in our quivers."

"Well, if you want to restock on arrows, we'll have to travel to the nearest town, which I believe is Ivarstead, since I can no longer set foot inside Falkreath."

"I could always go into Falkreath by myself. I can even pick you up the ingredients to make more skooma – put more gold in your pocket."

"Honey, I can't make skooma without an alchemy lab, and while we wouldn't have any trouble finding nightshade in these woods, good luck finding the moonsugar required to finish the recipe."

Frowning, Lassarina crossed her arms over her chest and glanced up at the sky. "Then what do you suggest we do?"

He rubbed his stubbly jaw and chewed on a bite of apple. "Well, I hear the skooma trade in Riften isn't too bad. We could travel that way and –"

"Nay," Lassarina interrupted him quickly enough. "We're not going to Riften."

"And just why not? I would think Riften, of all places, would be the one city you would thrive in, what with the Thieves Guild based there."

"You don't need to explain it to me, Finverior. I grew up in Riften, I know all about the Thieves Guilds presence there."

"Then what's the problem? I thought you were a part of the Guild."

"I was . . . I am. I just can't go back there right now, too many people know my face and would recognize me."

"Did you get in some sort of trouble or something?"

She hesitated before nodding stiffly. "Aye, something like that." She shook her head to clear away dark thoughts. "Is there another alternative?"

"Short of bumping into a Khajiit caravan, no, there isn't. So if you really want that skooma of yours, I suggest we start walking to Riften."

Lassarina let out a frustrated growl, but finally nodded and started heading toward the main road a couple of miles away. "Fine, let's go. With any luck, we'll run in to a caravan on the way and won't have to go to Riften."

"Yeah, _that'll_ happen," Finverior scoffed as he followed her.

**oOo**

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Finverior muttered as they approached the Khajiit caravan traveling down the road.

"Looks like lady luck is watching over us," Lassarina told him in a teasing tone. "You know more about drug deals, so go buy some skooma and I'll try and sell off the rest of Jarl Siddgeir's jewels."

The Bosmer glared at her, but did as she asked and walked over to whom he suspected was the caravan leader. Her fur was a very dark gray, almost black, and it seemed to make her blue eyes glow, even in the daylight. It sent an uncomfortable chill down Finverior's spine, finding it a bit intimidating, but he lifted his chin and nodded to her.

"Greetings, traveler," she greeted with a heavy Elsweyr accent.

"I'm looking to buy a few things," he told the Khajiit woman.

"What is it you wish to buy? We have weapons and armor, as well as potions and food."

"No, I'm not looking for any of that. I'm looking for something _sweet, _if you get my meaning."

Her feline eyes narrowed quite a bit and she tilted her head, acknowledging what he said. "I believe I have what you want. But it isn't cheap."

Finverior looked to Lassarina and motioned for her to hand him the jewels. "I think this ought to cover it, I'll take what you have left. And you throw in two bundles of your best arrows and a pipe as well."

She considered his offer, running a trained eye across each of the pieces of jewelry before she finally nodded. "We have a deal."

The exchange was made and Finverior and Lassarina walked away from the caravan with five vials of skooma, two bundles of elven arrows, a very nice looking violet-red pipe, and he even threw in a bit more gold to buy some Moonsugar as well. If they could find an alchemy lab one of these days, Finverior could make some of his own skooma and they would have plenty to last them a while.

"This skooma looks different from the kind you sold me," Lassarina told him as she examined one of the vials contents. "It's all crystallized. Your skooma was a liquid."

"I like to make my skooma a little bit differently from the Khajiit," he explained. "I always find it a hassle having to light a pipe each time I want a puff of the crystal stuff, so I created a recipe that makes it into a liquid instead. You just drink it; much easier."

"So there are different ways to take skooma then?"

"Oh, yes. You can smoke it with one of these special pipes, let a crystal dissolve on your tongue, drink my liquid form, there are even some people that grind the crystals down into a fine powder and snort it."

She grimaced. "You mean up their noses?"

"No, sweetie, they snort it up their asses. Of course their noses!"

"No need to be sarcastic, Finn."

"Look, I need a fix myself. I'm wound tight enough having to wake up to a woman who won't let me touch her. So let's get off the main road, find a water source and make camp for the rest of the day. I just want to lose myself."

She agreed and they got off the main road, heading south and searching for water. Finverior kept noticing that Lassarina was constantly sniffing the air, as if expecting to find a stream or a pond purely by following her nose. It was strange, but he said nothing and just watched her, trying to see if he could figure out what was up with her by studying her. Eventually, she found a stream – _Go figure – _and they followed it up to a cabin, a cabin surrounded by scorched earth.

"What in Oblivion happened here?" Finverior muttered, looking around for any signs of life.

Lassarina walked over to a charred body and knelt beside it. "Dragon attack."

"And how would you know that, hmm? Can you smell the scent of dragon?"

She glared at him and held up a note. "The ground and grass are burnt, there are two charred bodies, but, my guess is based on the fact that there's a note right here saying that this man and his wife sighted a dragon nearby."

Finverior blinked and took the note from her, reading a short message to the authorities about a dragon that had been flying over the shack for a week. But judging from the area, he guessed this dragon attack happened a while ago. Stuffing the note in his pocket, he turned to the shack and started walking over to it.

"Well, they aren't using the place anymore, so I guess this place is as good as any to stay a few days," he said, looking around inside and thankful the damage wasn't as bad as it was outside.

"Finverior, you can't be serious," Lassarina growled, following him inside. "There's a dragon nearby, we can't stay here."

"You honestly think the dragon is going to come back? It already killed everyone here, so there's no point in it returning." He dropped his satchel on the ground and sat on the bed, pulling out a vial of skooma and prepping up the pipe. "Look, I'm staying right here and smoking some of this. Now you're more than welcome to be a part of it, but only if you stay here."

Lassarina looked conflicted, going as far as stepping back outside to scan the skies for any sign of a dragon, but after several minutes, she too dropped her pack and sat down beside him. "Alright, how do you smoke this stuff?"

The rest of the morning and afternoon was spent smoking skooma and drinking from a couple of bottles of mead she had stolen from the Khajiit while he had them distracted with his battering. The drug was a welcomed relief, calming both of them immensely and even getting Lassarina to relax and open up a bit. He even ground a crystal of skooma into powder and they both snorted some of it, letting their minds go into a state of euphoria that was accompanied by the pleasant buzz the mead added. Finverior noticed that she was a lot more talkative when she was drinking and encouraged her to drink more mead, eager to try and get some information out of her.

"I have no idea how I lived without this stuff," Lassarina sighed dreamily as she blew out a puff of smoke. "Now I can understand why my adopted brothers were always doing it."

"You were adopted?" Finverior asked.

"Aye, my father died when I was only a few weeks old and my mother soon followed when I was around four. I was sent straight to Honorhall."

"That an orphanage."

"Mhmm, Honorhall Orphanage, the saddest place in all of Riften, where children are constantly tormented by the nefarious Grelod the Kind." She let out a snort of laughter and leaned close to him, her eyes red from the effects of the skooma. "You know, there was a rumor going around that she was half Hagraven. I think it's true too, cause she looks a lot like them."

"Sounds like a frightening woman."

"If she wasn't making you clean up, she was lashing you or locking you in the closet for a few days. Lucky for me, I never spent much time in the orphanage. Nay, I was always out in the town with Brynjolf. After my mother died and my brother was sent away, Brynjolf took care of me and decided to train me to be a master thief. I was picking pockets and cracking safes before I was ten."

"Then you got adopted?"

"They were horrible people. I didn't want to go with them, and Brynjolf tried to stop them from taking me, but in the end I was loaded into a cart and crossing the border into Cyrodiil. They really only adopted me so I could work as a slave for them. They ran an inn and I was constantly sweeping floors, mucking out the barn, and cleaning vomit off everything." Her eyes darkened and a grim expression fell upon her face. "Then at night came the sexual abuse and the beatings. I spent five years suffering from that before I finally had enough and killed their oldest son. Packed up anything I could carry and headed for Skyrim to try and get back to Riften and maybe find my brother."

Finverior frowned and squeezed her shoulder sympathetically. "Sounds like you had a rough life, gorgeous. But at least you're away from all of that now."

"Aye, I've been in Skyrim about a year now . . ." she trailed off and looked at the corner, lost in her own thoughts. "Gods . . . it's already been a year."

"So you went to Riften then?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head. "Nay, I didn't go to Riften until about four months ago. Contacted Brynjolf and joined up with the Thieves Guild."

"What about that brother you were separated from? You ever find him?"

"Aye, I found him about two months after I arrived here. He looked so different from the last time I saw him, but his eyes were still the same. He never really like Brynjolf, and when I told him I intended to become a thief, he was furious."

Finverior nodded and took another puff from the skooma pipe, following it with a chug of mead. "You've been in Skyrim a year but only joined the Guild four months ago? Where were you the other eight months?"

"Whiterun," she answered with a yawn. "Can't go back there for a while."

"Why not?"

She chuckled and looked at him. "If I even get close to Whiterun, my brother and Vilkas will sniff me out."

_Vilkas, _he repeated in his mind. _That's the name she's always muttering in her sleep._

"And who is this Vilkas?" Finverior pressed.

Her eyes closed and she lay her head down on the pillow. "Can't go to Riften either. Brynjolf will be riding my ass on paperwork and fixing the mess Mercer made."

"Why does a regular thief need to worry about issues like that?"

She snorted. "Ah, if only I _were _a regular thief. But, alas, there's no rest for the Guildmaster."

Finverior's eyes widened and his jaw dropped a bit, still not completely taking in what she had just said.

_I've been hanging out with the _leader_ of the Thieves Guild?_

"Lassarina, are you really the Guildmaster?" he asked her.

"Mmm, not now, Niruin. I'm tired. I'll listen to your pitch in the morning," she mumbled sleepily.

Finverior sighed and fell back in the bed next to her. _Great, she just had to fall asleep. Freaking light-weight._

But even as he thought that, his own eyes began to feel heavy and he started to drift off, falling asleep with Lassarina curled up next to him.

**oOo**

The next morning he woke up to a strange sound. Letting out a groan, he tightened his embrace around the warm, curvy body beside him and buried his face into her soft hair. Lassarina must have heard the sound too and was stirring beside him, mumbling in her still-sleepy state. The sound filled the air again, only this time it was a little louder. To Finverior it sounded like a gravely roar that echoed off the mountains. He tried his best to ignore it, but when it sounded again, he let out a growl of frustration.

"What in Oblivion is making that awful sound?" he muttered.

The roar came again, sounding like it was directly above them and Lassarina sat up quickly, gasping loudly. "That's a dragon!"

* * *

_This Chapter was written by _**_Mirage159._**

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more of Lassarina and Finverior's adventures through Skyrim! Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review **and as always, we appreciate the support and love we get from our loyal readers!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Well, it was only a matter of time before a dragon showed up. Brunette is giving me a taste of my own medicine by making ME finish HER cliffhanger. LOL._

_I hope you enjoy this chapter. Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review!**_

* * *

**CHAPTER V – Ancient's Ascent**

"A dragon?" Finn repeated groggily, hoping that he'd misheard her. _To any Divine who's listening, it would be nice if I was still half-asleep and not hearing things correctly._ "You sure about that?"

"Aye, I'm sure!" Lassarina scrambled out of his grasp, falling off the bed and half-crawling along the floor to her pack. "Didn't I tell you that the dragon could still be nearby?"

"Alright, beautiful, just rub it in!" the Bosmer snapped, sitting up and looking around for his cloak; as soon as Lassarina's warmth had left him, his body became chilled again from the frigid morning air. "But that roar sounded –"

Another roar echoed off the mountains again, and both of them glanced up at the sound, the Nord more fearfully.

"– far away," Finverior finished lamely. _That last one sounded a tad too close, though..._

Lassarina grabbed her pack. "We're going."

"What's the hurry?" he asked peevishly, finally catching sight of his cloak in the corner. Tumbling out of bed and reaching for it, he grabbed the garment and pulled it over his shoulders. "It's not like it knows where we are."

"Finn, we have to go," she said again with more urgency, grabbing some potions that had tumbled out of her open pack. "_Now._"

"Rina, just listen!" he insisted, an idea forming in his mind. "Dragons are famous for guarding treasure! _Lots_ of treasure! So if we kill it somehow, maybe we can get a crack at its horde without having to worry about being turned into little piles of ashes! Am I right or am I right?"

The Nord hesitated, but only for an instant. "Look, it doesn't matter if you're right or not. Dragons are still dangerous, and they're a real bitch to take down –" She snapped her mouth shut.

The Bosmer blinked. "Wait, so... you _weren't_ lying when you said you fought a dragon?" he asked, gesturing to the jagged puncture wound on her arm.

Lassarina sighed heavily, and Finverior was fairly sure that she muttered a curse or two underneath her breath. "Nay, I wasn't," she said tightly. "Now can we _please _focus on getting out of here?"

"What's the best way to take down one?" the other pressed.

"There is no 'best way,' alright?" she snapped, standing abruptly with one strap of her pack clutched in her fist. "I'd rather just avoid the gods-damned dragon!"

Finverior held up his hands in a show of surrender. "Calm your tits, Rina. Just trying to plan ahead for once in my life."

"Can your unexpected burst of practicality wait until later?" she growled, hauling her pack over one shoulder. "We need to go!"

"All right, all right, princess. Hang on." Going into a crouch, the Bosmer scrabbled for the empty skooma vials, hastily wrapped them up, and put them in his satchel. _No use in leaving these behind; I can make a new batch and fill these right up again._

Seeing the remnants of the previous night's activities brought something back to his mind. "So," he asked casually, swiveling around on the balls of his feet, "you're the Guildmaster of the Skyrim Thieves Guild, huh? Who'd you kill to get that job?"

Lassarina's mouth fell open, and her blue eyes were wide and pained; his words had given her enough of a shock that she made no effort to hide her emotions. Then she swallowed. "Who – how do you – how do you know that?" she asked hoarsely.

"You told me, sweetheart," he answered, double-checking the contents of his satchel. "Apparently, skooma and mead loosen your tongue rather than your inhibitions. By the way," he added, "who in Oblivion is Niruin?"

She stared at him in stunned silence. "You – you have no right," she managed, her voice angered. "Don't talk to me about this, _any_ of it."

"But you told me," he repeated. "It's not like I broke the third rule and asked outright; you volunteered the information freely, gorgeous. And speaking of which, if we're going to continue getting high together, you should probably rethink that rule." He grinned, but it came out a bit more strained than he'd intended.

"I said _enough_!" There was a hitch in the Nord's voice. "I don't want to talk about my past, and you don't need to know about it."

"We've been skulking around Falkreath Hold for a little under a month, and until last night, you've never told me anything about yourself!" Finverior countered. "I know a thing or two about secrets – Oblivion knows I've done enough things that I'm not too proud of – but dammit, Rina, if we're going to be working together for any longer –"

"Well, we won't be if you keep this up!" she cried, her knuckles turning white.

The Bosmer sighed harshly, running a hand back through his hair. "I – look, Rina," he tried again, "I may be a skooma dealer and a cheat and a scoundrel, but that doesn't mean I don't have a heart. I'm trying to help out."

"By drugging me senseless and listening to me spill my secrets to you?" Lassarina said bitingly. "Aye, that's a _huge_ help."

"Don't you dare shift the blame here; you _chose_ to take that skooma," Finverior retorted. "I may have sold it to you, but you always took it of your own free will, darling."

"Well, if the option had never been offered to me, maybe I would never have considered it!" she hissed.

The Bosmer thought back to the night when they met, back to when he'd first seen her: small and sad and vulnerable. "What pushed you, then?" he asked quietly. "What happened to you, Rina? What made you want to drown your pain?"

"None of your damn business!" Her voice turned into a sob, and tears started to run down her face. Crumpling to her knees, the Nord buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

_ Nice going, Finn. Real smooth_. Unsure of what to do, Finverior approached her cautiously and knelt down beside her. "Rina, I –"

Lassarina raised her head, her eyes red and watery, and she opened her mouth to rail against him, but anything that she would have said was drowned out by a distant roar.

"That sounds farther away now," he observed, encouraged. "Maybe it was just flying by."

The Nord smiled weakly, shakily. "Still determined to be right in all this?"

"Of course I am." His sarcastic cheer faded. "Listen, Rina, I'm sorry for being an ass just then, but –"

"Aye, you should apologize," she cut him off. "You know not to ask about me, and you did. Just –" her voice faltered "– don't ask about me being Guildmaster or anything like that ever again."

Finverior grinned. "Well, I won't make any promises, sweetheart, but I'll give it a shot. Now," he continued, getting back on his feet, "what are the possibilities of there being a dragon horde around here somewhere?"

Lassarina sighed heavily. "Finn, I already told you –"

"If there's still a dragon around these and if it's flown off to grab a bite to eat, now's our chance," he argued. "We find treasure, we take said treasure, and we're off with our loot before the dragon so much as darkens the sky. We avoid the dragon and we get rich."

The Nord still looked skeptical. "That's a lot of 'if's in your plan."

"Honey, it isn't a good plan if there isn't some risk involved." He held out his hand to her. "Now, what do you say? Shall we go steal from a dragon?"

**oOo**

"So far, so good," Finverior chuckled, surveying the crumbling pillars near the mountain's peak. "This definitely looks like a dragon's lair to me; nothing else would have been able to drag a mammoth up here." He prodded the bleached tusk of a hollow mammoth skull to prove his point.

Beside him, now back in her cloak and her black leather armor, Lassarina nodded. "These must have been part of some Nordic ruins once." She pointed at one of the ancient stone supports arcing overhead. "I wonder what happened to it."

"Dragons happened," the Bosmer said sardonically, continuing to tramp through the snow. "Fortunately for us, there's no dragon here now, but –" He stopped in his tracks, staring ahead.

In the shadow of the mountain, there lay a strange, small, curved wall with an elaborately shaped top edge. Angular carvings covered it, the most prominent being an eerie, stylized head that looked a bit like a dragon's, with curving horns and a narrow jaw. Unlike the ruins of the barrow that littered the snow, the wall seemed untouched by the passage of time.

"Dibella's tits," Finverior swore, "what is _that_?"

"I don't know," the Nord confessed, an odd edge to her voice, "but we should probably stay away. Something that well-preserved must have powerful magic within it."

Squinting further, the Bosmer's eyes caught the glint of metal nearby the wall and his heartbeat quickened. "But Rina, the treasure... I think it's over there," he pointed out, a bit pleading.

"Then you go grab it," she said, giving him a playful shove. "I can keep watch for the dragon in the meantime."

Finverior frowned. "You sure about that, sweetheart? I mean, you _were_ the one who was worried about getting turned into a crisp."

"Finn, I'll be fine. Here –" she handed him her own sack that she used for stolen valuables "– take mine and just grab everything."

He didn't move, but his eyebrow quirked up questioningly. "You scared of the wall, or something?" he laughed.

"Nay," the Nord said, albeit a bit defensively.

His other eyebrow went up, and then both came back down as his frown turned into a long-suffering look. "You know what it is, don't you?"

Lassarina's lips tightened. "Aye, I do."

"And will it maim me horribly or kill me?" the Bosmer asked wryly.

"Nay. It shouldn't affect you at all, but –" She sighed, irritated with herself, and started again. "Oh, what does it matter? I'll come with you." She snatched her sack away from him and stomped off in the direction of the wall.

Finverior caught up to her. "Are you always this moody, or is your moon's blood coming around again?" he joked.

He just barely missed her fist coming towards his nose. "Finn, if you say one more thing about my cycle, I will bury you," the Nord threatened.

"Should that be the fifth rule?" he asked lightly. "Because I might be able to follow that."

Lassarina snorted. "I'm not counting on that."

They were nearer to the base of the strange wall, and now that he was closer, Finverior saw that the carvings on the lower half of the wall were more markings than images: a string of gouges that looked as though they'd been clawed into the stone. But more importantly, he could now see that the glint of metal he'd seen earlier was from a half-buried ebony dagger.

"Oh, Rina," he breathed, looking around his feet at all that lay among the bones and the snow: weapons, armor, coins, gems, and all of them gleaming in the sun. "What did I tell you? We're going to be so wealthy –" he stopped, not hearing a response. "Rina?"

He looked up, tearing his eyes away from the wealth on the ground. The Nord had drawn near to the wall, placed one gloved hand on a section of the gouges that seemed to be – were they _glowing_?

Suddenly, wisps of light shot from the carvings, wrapping around Lassarina's form and seeping into what little skin she had exposed. Blinded by the sudden brightness, the Bosmer stumbled back, shielding his eyes.

And then he heard the roar – thunderous and powerful and very, _very_ near – and felt his body grow cold as the dragon's shadow passed overhead.

* * *

_This Chapter was written by _**_BrunetteAuthorette99._**

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more of Lassarina and Finverior's adventures through Skyrim! Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review **and as always, we appreciate the support and love we get from our loyal readers!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Brunny says that I write battle scenes better than her, but I think I was only able to write the following battle scene because I spent a bunch of time playing Trouble in Terrorist Town before writing it. Nothing like shooting Innocent Terrorists to get the creative juices flowing!_

_I hope you enjoy this chapter. Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review!**_

* * *

**Chapter VI – Dragonborn**

"Shit!" Finverior swore as the dragon spotted both him and Lassarina. "Rina, we've got to move!"

But his Nord companion didn't seem to hear him and was still entranced with the wall in front of her, the last of the light that had flowed from it being absorbed by her body. The dragon's roar brought his attention back to the beast and he drew his bow, nocking an arrow and firing straight up as it flew past him again. He saw the elven arrow sink deep into the dragon's belly, but it didn't seem to do anything but annoy it, causing it to focus all its attention on him. Its glaring eyes were trained on him as it did something that shocked Finverior. It spoke.

"_Fahliil dir diist_!" it roared as it turned in the air and started flying toward him.

"Shit!" he shouted as he turned tail and started running over to the cave tunnel he and Lassarina came in through.

_Idiot! _His mind yelled at him. _You're leaving Lassarina!_

With a gasp he looked over his shoulder, seeing the dragon was high above him still, but beginning to descend. He ignored for a quick second to look at the wall Lassarina had been entranced with, only to discover she was no longer there.

_Did she abandon me again? _He wondered, feeling the sting of betrayal already beginning to take root.

Suddenly the dragon's shadow was right over him and growing larger and larger on the ground. He raised his sights upward and saw that the beast was descending, its claws poised to snatch him right up. Finverior braced himself for death, when he heard her voice shouting.

"_Wuld!_"

Without any warning, he felt a flash of wind beside him and was suddenly tackled to the ground. The pain cause by the brute force of it knocked the air out of his lungs and he struggled to take a breath as he rolled across the snow covered earth. When they stopped rolling, he felt the warmth of a healing spell on his chest and the pain dulled to a tolerable ache. He lifted his head to see Lassarina frowning at him.

"I'm so sorry!" she said as she stood up and started dragging him over to the rock wall that enclosed the area. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but I had to get you out of the way."

The dragon roared again and hovered in the air, glaring at them. "_Dovahkiin! _I will enjoy hearing your bones crunch when I devour you!"

The dragon took a deep breath and for a moment Finverior guessed that he was about to see it breath fire, just like they did in so many stories he heard throughout his life. But the dragon never got the chance as Lassarina stepped in front of him and shouted once again in some strange language.

"_Yol!_"

His eyes widened in a mix of shock and amazement as he saw fire erupted from her mouth and hit the dragon. He pushed himself onto his feet and stared at her.

"What the fuck did you just do?" he demanded, his mouth wide open.

"Not now!" she snapped at him, drawing her bow and firing a well-aimed arrow into the beasts eye, making it shriek in pain.

His pride as a Bosmer wouldn't let him admire the fact she was no doubt a better marksman than him, so he stayed fixated on the matter at hand. "Woman, you _breathed fire!_ How in Oblivion did you do that?"

She growled and fired another arrow, hitting its snout. "I Shouted, alright? Now will you fucking help me?"

Finverior let out a sigh of frustration and nocked an arrow, firing it at the dragon neck.

"Nay, aim for its head!" Lassarina corrected him, firing once more and hitting it between the eyes.

The dragon roared angrily when the landed a few more blows to its head and it started to fly away. Finverior lowered his bow, eager to just let the damned thing fly away, but Lassarina obviously had other ideas. She took off running after the fleeing wyrm and shouted in that strange language again.

"_Fu . . . Ro!_"

A strange pulsing wave burst from her mouth, appearing in the form of a barely visible blue aura, and hit the dragon, making it flinch and stop flapping its mighty wings for a moment. Whatever she had done, it stunned the dragon.

"Don't you think you're getting away, you son of a bitch!" she snarled as ran ahead of the dragon and aimed her bow up, letting loose another arrow.

It shot right through the bottom of the dragon's mouth and it shrieked in pain. It looked down at Lassarina and Finverior nearly felt his heart stop when fire spouted from its maw and rained down onto his partner. For a brief second, he thought she had been engulfed and killed by those flames. But he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her appear from around the column of fire, running directly toward the rock wall and scaling up to a rocky ledge just above her, using the momentum of her sprint to climb it easier. The dragon snarled at her, getting ready to attack her once again, when she stepped right of the cliff and into thin air.

"Rina, no!" Finverior yelled, expecting her to fall.

"_Wuld!_" she shouted again and her body flew across the air at an alarming speed. Once minute she was stepping into thin air, then the next she was hanging onto the dragon by one of the spikes that grew along its spine.

Finverior couldn't take his eyes away. "Let go, you crazy bitch!"

"Keep shooting at it, ice-brain!"

He swore loudly and raised his bow, firing arrow after arrow at the dragon, being careful not to hit Lassarina. The beast clearly didn't appreciate having the Nord woman hanging onto his body and was desperately trying to shake her off. When it roared in pain, that's when Finverior saw that she had stabbed her ebony sword deep into its flesh and was holding onto the pommel for dear life. She swung her leg over the dragon's neck and now sat astride it, slowly climbing over to its head and drawing her second blade from her belt. The dragon was now flying wildly over the clearing, sensing its demise was close at hand and was fighting desperately to prevent it.

With a furious battle cry, Lassarina thrust her sword through the dragon's skull, instantly killing it. Its wings stopped flapping and it plummeted to the ground below, making the very earth shake with its weight. Finverior fought to maintain balance for a moment, but was he was steady he started running to the corpse.

"Lassarina!" he shouted as he neared, praying his partner didn't by from the fall.

He spotted her lying pinned beneath the dragons neck, her eyes closed and blood flowing from a head wound she must have received when she and the dragon hit the ground. Finverior knelt on the ground beside her and lifted her head off the ground.

"Come on, you stupid woman, open your eyes," he ordered her, using a restoration spell to heal the wound on her head.

Her eyes fluttered open and those pale-blue eyes met his, slightly darkened and hazy. "Thanks . . ."

"What were you trying to do, gorgeous, kill yourself?"

"Nay, I've almost died twice already. This was just me venting."

He chuckled a bit and looked at the dragon. She was pinned beneath it from the waist down and he didn't think he'd be able to lift her out from underneath it. "Shit, how are we going to get you out of here?"

She sighed softly and shut her eyes again. "Just wait for it."

"What do you–"

Finverior broke off when he saw flakes of glowing ash start to fall from the dragons corpse. Before he knew it, the body was starting to rapidly disintegrate while a strange glowing wind flowed out from the center and straight at Lassarina. He stared, for once at a loss for words as her body soaked up the light and a pained expression was pasted on her face. In seconds the only thing that remained of the dragon was a colossal skeleton, void of any flesh with only a few bits of now gray scales clinging to the bones. Lassarina opened her eyes after a few moments and groaned.

"I hate it when that happens," she moaned, drawing her legs out from underneath the skeleton and rubbing them gently to check for any breaks.

Finverior just stared at her. "What was that?"

Unsurprisingly, she tried dodging the question. "Let's grab the loot lying around and get out of here."

Scowling, Finverior's hands shot out and grabbed Lassarina's shoulders, shaking her a bit. "No! You're not going to avoid answering me this time! You're going to sit right here in front of me and tell me what the fuck just happened! If you don't I'll tie you up, drag you to Whiterun, and just leave you there!"

Fear and sorrow flashed through her eyes for a quick moment, actually believing him. She chewed on her bottom lip for a few moments before finally nodding and drawing her knees up to her chest, getting herself comfortable to answer any questions he might have.

"I'm Dragonborn," she told him.

"Dragonborn," he repeated slowly. "And what, may I ask, is a Dragonborn?"

Lassarina thought about it for a moment, as if trying to figure out how exactly to explain it. "To put it in the words of the guard who explained it to me, I'm basically a dragon-slayer. I have the ability to consume the souls of dragons I've slain and absorb their knowledge, which allows me to learn Words of Power much more quickly."

"Words of Power, what are those?"

"They're words in the dragon-tongue that allow me to use powers just like them."

"Like how you breathed fire and moved from one place to another in the blink of an eye?"

She nodded. "Aye. It's referred to as a Thu'um, or a Shout in the common tongue. I basically shout the word and it comes out as a weapon – power."

Suddenly Finverior remembered the rumors he had heard about how Skyrim's civil war began. "So those rumors about Ulfric Stormcloak killing the High King with his voice . . . those were–"

"– I don't know the whole story behind that," she interjected quickly, her eyes darkening with anger for a moment. "But they're more than likely true."

He frowned and looked over to the wall nearby. "What about that light that came from the wall over there?"

"That's called a Word Wall. They're all over Skyrim and have Words of Power carved into them. What you saw was me learning a new word."

"And what does that word do? Make you fly?"

She chuckled a bit and shook her head. "Nay, it allows me to make a wild animal my ally for a brief period. I'll have to try it out when I get the chance." She looked at him. "Anymore questions?"

Finverior rubbed his chin and thought about it for a minute. "Yes, just one."

Lassarina nodded and motioned for him to ask it.

"Who's Niruin?"

This time, Lassarina actually snorted with laughter and her pale-blue eyes sparkled beautifully. "He's a Bosmer in the Guild. He's been talking about opening a brothel."

"Ah, a project I can definitely approve of!"

"Well, I'm not giving him the funding for it, so if he wants it that badly, it's coming out of his own pocket." She stood and dusted the snow off her armor. "Now let's grab all the loot we can carry and get out of Falkreath Hold!"

Finverior chuckled and stood as well, more than happy to agree.

**oOo**

They packed up all the loot they could carry and were on the main road heading into The Rift. They had walked away from the dragon's lair with an ebony dagger, five hundred gold pieces, a set of enchanted steel armor, a pouch filled with gemstones, and an elven shield. The whole experience with fighting the dragon helped Lassarina open up more, as if killing the beast rid her of some of the weight she was carrying on her shoulders. As they traveled toward the Falkreath Hold border, the smoked some skooma from the pipe and Lassarina told a part of her tale.

She told him how she came to learn that she was the Dragonborn, how when she came to Skyrim a year ago, she was actually at Helgen when it was attacked by a black dragon. Lassarina had accidentally run into an Imperial ambush that was set up for the Stormcloaks and got thrown into a cart with Ulfric Stormcloak, a horse thief, a Stormcloak soldier named Ralof, and – while she didn't know it at the time – her long lost brother was also in the cart. Despite her name not being on the list, she was still sent to the chopping block and was about to be executed when the dragon attacked and Helgen became Oblivion for a day.

"Gods, how did you get out of there alive?" Finverior asked her, taking a bite of venison jerky.

"The Stormcloak soldier I was in the cart with," she told him with a fond smile. "Ralof helped me get to safety and his family gave me some food to eat and a bed for the night when we got to Riverwood. The only thing they asked in return for their kindness was that I deliver a message to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send aid to Riverwood in case the dragon attacked there too." Her eyes grew sad as she became lost in her memories and she quickly inhaled a good amount of smoke from the pipe. "Originally, I was just going to deliver the message and then hire a car to take me to Riften, but I ran into a giant on the way there and had to be rescued."

"Let me guess, some brave, strong and handsome Nord man defeated the evil giant and swept you off your feet," Finverior said dramatically.

The corners of her lips twitched up for a moment and she rubbed her eye with a finger, trying to pretend that it was itchy, but Finverior had seen the tear and his joke had unintentionally turned into a painful reminder. His joke was exactly what happened. _Smooth, Finn. You're starting to get really good at making this woman cry._

"Is that why we can't go to Whiterun?" he asked her softly, the light tone disappearing.

"Aye," she murmured sadly. "Something like that."

"Lassarina, why don't you just talk about what happened? Sometimes the only way to feel better is to just let it out."

He watched as she contemplated his words carefully, taking another puff from the pipe and staring at the smoke as it slowly wafted from her slightly open mouth. With a heavy sigh, all the smoke blew out at once and she gave him a sad smile as she shook her head.

"Nay . . . I'm not ready to talk about it quite yet. Maybe someday, and if you're still around I might tell it to you."

Finverior placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned over to take a puff from the pipe while she held it. Blowing out the smoke, he pulled her a bit closer to give her some semblance of an embrace and dropped a kiss on her temple.

"Don't worry, beautiful, I'll still be around."

Her eyes practically glowed with happiness at his words and she gave him a brilliant smile. The smile quickly turned into an annoyed frown when his hand drifted below her belt and he grabbed her arse.

"Can't imagine my life without seeing this gorgeous thing every day," he chuckled lustily.

And just like her predicted, Finverior was kneeling on the ground seconds later, clutching his stomach and struggling to breath as Lassarina continued walking on ahead. He couldn't fight his chuckle. _Jokes on her. Now I've got a great view of her arse._

* * *

_This Chapter was written by _**_Mirage159._**

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more of Lassarina and Finverior's adventures through Skyrim! Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review **and as always, we appreciate the support and love we get from our loyal readers!_


	7. Chapter 7

_What can I say about this next chapter except... Oh Finn, you're incorrigible. LOL _

_I hope you enjoy this chapter. Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review!**_

* * *

**CHAPTER VII – A Chilly Reception**

"I _hate_ Windhelm," Finverior grumbled, tugging his fur cloak a little bit tighter around himself as a new gust of wind hit him squarely in the chest.

Beside him, Lassarina laughed softly. "Let me guess: because it's cold?"

"Well, that doesn't help my judgment any." He yanked his hood back over his head; the wind had blown it off at some point and ice was beginning to form on the tips of his ears. "No, I hate Windhelm because it's filled with racist Nords worshipping their asshole of a god and subjugating anyone who isn't a Nord. And don't even get me started on their _esteemed_ jarl."

Even though her mask was over her face, he could imagine the Nord raising an eyebrow. "What do you have against Talos, Finn?"

The Bosmer sighed. "What I have against Talos, sweetheart, is that he was a real bastard in his lifetime and he was rewarded for it with godhood. Call me crazy, but there's a bit of a disconnect there."

"He founded the Empire," Lassarina reminded, "and he was Dragonborn as well. Tiber Septim was a great hero, if not the greatest of them all."

"Yes, because the ends always justifies the murder of the Emperor he was sworn to serve, not to mention the forced abortion of his mistress's child," Finverior said sourly. "You Nords always seem to gloss over that bit."

"And 'us Nords' don't take kindly to people telling us which gods to worship," the Nord retorted icily, stopping in her tracks and crossing her arms.

The Bosmer raised his hands defensively. "Honey, I don't give a damn if you worship Talos or not. I'm just saying that I don't."

"Well, I _do_." She started stomping through the snow again. "And you might not want to spread that view around. After all, we _are_ in Windhelm."

Finverior groaned, but followed her anyway. _Don't remind me._

It had been a week since they'd fought the dragon in Falkreath Hold, a week since Lassarina admitted that she was Dragonborn. They'd been walking for that whole time, stopping in towns along the way to try and pawn off some of their loot; by now, their bags were considerably lighter. As per the Nord's insistence, they bypassed Riften and headed north towards Windhelm, though he honestly hoped that they wouldn't be there long. _All this snow doesn't agree with me._

"So, who are we hitting this time?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood. "I hear the Shatter-Shields and the Cruel-Seas are fairly rich."

"So is Ulfric Stormcloak."

This time, it was the Bosmer's turn to stop where he stood. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he hissed. "You know what happened the last time we robbed a jarl, and there's no way in Oblivion I'm living _that_ all over again!"

Lassarina turned around. "Finn –"

"They catch me and I'm done for!" he cut her off. "The Windhelm guards are vicious towards non-Nords, let alone elves!"

"_Finn_," she repeated. "I'm not asking you to come with me."

It took a few seconds for that to sink in. "Let me get this straight: you're planning to rob the Palace of the Kings... _alone_?"

The Nord nodded.

"Rina, have I told you lately that you're crazy?"

"Aye, I'm sure you have," she said, a smile in her voice. "I'll be fine."

"Oh, _right,_ I forgot that you can turn invisible," he said dryly. "Seriously, beautiful, you'll have to show me that trick sometimes."

"Not a chance," she laughed. "It's getting dark, so I'll head towards Valunstrad right now. Why don't you go to Candlehearth Hall and wait for me?"

"Candlehearth?" Finverior repeated. "Considering the clientele, that _might_ not be the best idea."

"Just keep your hood up and try to stay out of trouble." Lassarina started off down a nearby side street. "I'll catch up with you soon."

"Rina, _wait_ –!" His words ended in an irritated sigh as she slipped out of sight into the wintery darkness. _Great._ _Leave me alone with a bunch of hostile Nords, why don't you?_

Hugging his cloak around him even tighter than before, the Bosmer started to tramp through the snow covering the cobblestones towards the bright lights of the inn.

**oOo**

It had been at _least_ an hour, and Lassarina wasn't back yet.

Leaning back in his chair, Finverior took another half-hearted swig from his bottle of spiced wine. He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't worried about Lassarina, but at the same time, he tried to assure himself that the Nord knew what she was doing and that she was more than capable of getting herself out of trouble if necessary.

A buxom barmaid passed by his seat with a tray of mead, and he winked at her, his gaze admiring. She gave him a wicked little smile before continuing on her way, hips swaying underneath her skirt.

He chuckled to himself. He'd have to strike up a conversation with her later; she looked like fun between the sheets, and Dibella knew how long he'd gone without sex. _If Lassarina isn't running back to Candlehearth right now with a passel of Windhelm guards on her trail, I just might do that._

The Bosmer finished his drink, surveying the room. It was a quiet night, but there was a fire in the hearth and there were still a few patrons, most of them gathered around the Dunmer bard strumming a lute in the corner. Aside from an older Imperial woman flirting outrageously with a weary-looking Nord man, none of them looked particularly wealthy.

_Maybe the jarl was our best meal ticket after all._ He lazily ran his finger around the rim of the bottle. _I just wish it didn't have to be such a damn risky one._

"Need another drink, handsome?"

Finverior looked up. The barmaid he'd noticed before was standing before him with her tray tucked under her arm and a last bottle of mead dangling from her fingers. If anything, she looked even more tempting up close.

He smiled. "You read my mind, darling." The Bosmer took the bottle, uncorked it, and took a drink. "What's your name?"

"You first," she chided playfully.

"Varilen," he lied smoothly, using one of his lesser-used false names. "Your turn."

"Mine's Susanna." She returned his smile. "Mind if I... sit down?"

Finverior patted his knee. "Not at all."

Susanna settled herself on his lap, draping one arm around his shoulder. Up close, the Bosmer found he could much better appreciate how low-cut her dress was.

"So, _Varilen_,what brings a handsome wood elf like you to Windhelm?" she purred, fingers rubbing against the stubble on his chin.

"Business... and pleasure." His hand found its way to her waist, fitting itself into the deep curve there. "Care to help me attain one of those?"

The barmaid laughed impishly. "I'm always happy to help a man in need." She leaned over, grasping the neck of his mead bottle and taking a long, slow sip, her eyes fixed on him all the while.

As soon as she lifted her head, Finverior kissed her hard, relishing the warmth under her skin. "That's good to hear, because I am very, _very_ much in need," he murmured between kisses.

Susanna pressed her body against him as she shifted her position on his lap, and his free hand wound around her waist and down to her rear, giving it a squeeze. His mouth wandered down to her neck – her collarbone – the tops of her breasts – and she let out a breathy moan, running her fingers through his hair.

"What do you think you're doing, _elf_?" a heavily accented voice slurred.

Peering around the barmaid's shoulder, the Bosmer raised an eyebrow at the man who'd spoken: a middle-aged Nord with brown stubble on his chin, wearing a hat with earflaps. There was another man in substantially more ragged clothes standing with him, but he was standing back a bit.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Finverior asked casually, trying to keep his tone light. "Enjoying some mead and the company of a lovely woman."

Susanna sighed. "Rolff, Elda doesn't want you coming around anymore. If you make a mess like last time –"

"Where else am I suppose to get a drink?" Rolff demanded. "Down in the Grey Quarter with those filthy grey-skins? I'd sooner give up Talos!"

The other man put his hand on Rolff's shoulder. "You've had too much to drink. Let's get you home before your brother has to bail you out of jail."

"Shut up, Angrenor!" Rolff shook his friend's hand off irritably. "I'm thinkin' you need to be taught a lesson, elf."

In spite of himself, the Bosmer felt his jaw tighten. "And I think you should back off," he said, allowing the hint of menace in his voice.

"Who do you think you are, threatenin' me?" Rolff stepped forward, mouth curled into a sneer. "Thalmor-lovers like you don't belong in Skyrim."

"Rolff, that's enough," Susanna tried to say, standing up. "Get out before Elda –"

Her sentence ended in a cry of pain as the Nord man slapped her across the face, sending her reeling back. "You need to learn to shut that mouth of yours, bitch, 'fore it gets you in trouble!"

Without thinking, Finverior stood and lunged, his fist connecting with Rolff's nose. Grunting in shock, the man staggered backwards, and then fell over onto the floorboards. The bottle he'd been holding shattered, splattering mead all over the wood, and the inn went quiet as patrons stopped talking and peered over to see what had caused the crash.

The Bosmer sighed. _I have a feeling that this is what Lassarina _didn't_ want me to do._

Taking a quick last gulp of his drink, he hurriedly grabbed his cloak, bow, and quiver from the back of his chair. "Maybe some other time, gorgeous," he said to Susanna, giving her a peck on the cheek that Rolff had slapped.

She smiled a little. "I'll count on it."

Finverior grinned to himself as he turned around. _Maybe Windhelm isn't as bad as I thought._

Suddenly, a heavy weight struck the back of his skull, and his vision went black before he hit the floor.

* * *

_This Chapter was written by _**_BrunetteAuthorette99._**

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more of Lassarina and Finverior's adventures through Skyrim! Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review **and as always, we appreciate the support and love we get from our loyal readers!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Yeah... Sorry this took so long. I finished Sovngarde Beckons and needed a writing break... Then I had my 21st birthday and spent a week bar hopping and getting shit-faced drunk... Then I started on Storm of the Dominion... It's been a crazy few weeks..._

_I hope you enjoy this chapter. Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review!**_

* * *

Chapter VIII – Bad Luck

When Finverior came to, it was to the sound of Lassarina arguing with someone. Groaning loudly, he sat up, grasping the back of his head when he felt a sharp pain go through it. By the Eight, it's like I'm being stabbed.

"Listen to me, you deaf brute!" he heard Lassarina snap. "I demand that my friend be released right this instant!"

"And you listen to me, woman," growled a man's voice. "You don't have the coin to pay his fines. So the Bosmer is staying right in that cell until he's done his time or his fines are paid."

Great, I'm in jail again, Finverior thought bitterly, noticing the bars in front of him for the first time. He moved closer to them and saw Lassarina, still wearing her hood and mask, standing in front of some sour-faced guard who clearly wasn't interested in anything she had to say.

"All the coin we had was with him when you brought him in," Lassarina sighed. "I have the coin, you just won't give it to me!"

The guard let out an annoyed grunt. "Anything found on the elf when he was arrested has been confiscated and won't be returned until he is released."

Finn saw her turn to look at him, her pale blue eyes flashing with relief under the shadows of her hood. When she turned back to the guard, he could just catch the sound of her grumbling before leaning close.

"Look, I'm with the Guild," she whispered softly. "Is there any way we can just forget about this? I could make it worth your while, make sure your pockets are never picked again."

The guards eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

"Is it working?"

"I'm going to give you one chance, girly. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear anything and let you walk out of here shackle free. Get the money to pay for his fines and then I'll release him."

Lassarina growled angrily and back away. "Can I at least speak with him?"

The guard looked at her and then over at Finverior before he nodded. "You've got five minutes. And if I see you fiddling with any locks, you'll have me to deal with."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said sarcastically as she wandered over to his cell door. Kneeling in front of the bars she tucked her hood a little closer around her face before pulling down her mask and giving him a small smile. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Like I got the back of my head smashed," he replied with a grunt.

"Actually, that's exactly what happened." She turned to glance at the next cell over. "This guy hit you in the back of the head with a lute. That poor Dunmer was extremely upset about it."

"Damned gray-skin doesn't need no damned lute," mumbled a very familiar and very intoxicated voice. "Shouldn't even be playing inside a Nord facility."

"Careful," Finverior warned. "Facility is a big word, wouldn't want you using up the little bit of intelligence you have."

"Shut your damned mouth, you filthy elf!"

"Oi!" the guard called out. "Keep it down, Stone-Fist."

Lassarina's eyes widened. "Stone-Fist? Your name is Stone-Fist?"

"Aye, what's it to ya?" asked Rolff's voice.

"Any relation to Galmar?"

"Aye, he's my brother and he should be hear any minute to bail me out."

Finverior saw her whole body go stiff. "Lassarina, what's wrong?"

"Shh!" she hissed quickly. "Look, I've got to get out of here, but I'm going to get you out of here, don't you worry about that."

"Lassarina?" Rolff echoed. "I know that name . . . Wait a minute, you look familiar. Do I know you, girl?"

Lassarina pulled on her mask and shook her head. "Nay, first time in Windhelm. Must just have one of those faces." She looked at Finn and handed him a water-skin through the bars. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Wait, Rina!" Finverior tried stopping her as she stood and started walking out. "You better not ditch me!"

"I won't!" she shouted from down the hall, right before he footsteps disappeared.

Lovely, now I'm all alone inside Windhelm's prison. Finverior sighed heavily and leaned back against the wall, bringing the skin of water to his lips and taking a long drink. He must have been out for a while judging from how thirsty he was. At least it's not freezing down here, and it's a lot cleaner than other cells I've been in.

Closing his eyes, Finverior decided to just relax and let Lassarina work whatever magic she possessed to get him out of there. He was just beginning to doze off when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Curious, he opened his eyes and peered at the newcomer through the bars. He was a heavily built Nord with a ridiculous looking bear uniform and looked extremely pissed off.

"Galmar!" Rolff called out in the next cell. "About damned time! Get me out of here!"

Finverior's brows rose. Galmar? That's the name that made Rina go all stiff. He studied the man a bit closer and realized it was no wonder she had gotten scared off. Despite the man's old age, he looked like he could tear a man in half with his bare hands. Wouldn't want to run into him in a dark alley.

"Shut up!" he barked at his incarcerated brother. "I've got enough problems to deal with right now without having to bail your drunken ass out of jail!"

"Problems on the war front?" the guard asked.

"Nay, some thief got into the palace and cleaned out Ulfric's chambers! To add insult to injury, they took the Shield of Eastmarch as well! That shield was all Ulfric had left of his father!"

Finverior couldn't stop the chuckle that slipped past his lips. It was good to hear that Lassarina's heist had been successful but he immediately regretted voicing his humor when he saw the deadly glare Galmar shot at him.

"This seems funny to you, elf?"

"No, not at all, just recalling a joke I heard the other day. How many Nords does it take to light a sconce? Two, one holds onto the horns while the other . . . oh wait, that's what happens before they light it."

Galmar face hardened even more and his brother snorted a bit from the next cell. Finverior hoped that the older Nord would ignore him after that, but the Windhelm guard looked to Galmar, his eyes straying to Finverior every few seconds.

"General, there was a thief from the Guild in here only a few moments ago. She was trying to bail the Bosmer out."

"Really?" the General growled as he walked over to Finverior's cell. "Did your little thief friend happen to steal the Jarl's property?"

Finverior sighed and stood up, hanging his arms through the cell's bars and leaning against them. "Thief, what thief? I don't know any thieves."

"You knife-eared piece of shit. You know damned well what thief."

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Finverior said as he stuck a finger in his ear and pretended to clean it out. "I don't generally hear well or respond when people insult me. Maybe change your bad attitude first before speaking to me."

Galmar slammed his fist into the bars and turned to the guard. "What did this bitch look like? I'll have the guards around the city keep an eye out for her."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't see her face," the guard replied. "She wore a mask over her face and a hood covered her hair. The only thing I saw were her eyes. They were pale-blue. I can describe her armor though. Skin tight black leathers and a black cloak, should be easy to spot."

"Not when it's this dark out! She'll probably be hiding by now, waiting to make her escape." Galmar glanced at Finverior. "She won't leave without her friend here. He doesn't get out, and if she comes by to get him arrest her."

"Aye, general."

"Now get my useless brother out of that damned cell."

The guard walked over to Rolff's cell and quickly unlocked the door, letting the hung-over Nord out. Finverior glared at the man as he stumbled over to the ridiculously dressed general and retreated to the far wall of his cell, stewing in his own annoyed anger. Great, how the hell is Rina going to bail me out of this one?

"Oi, Galmar, I heard the elf and thief talking earlier," Rolff mumbled to his brother. "I got her name. It sounds really familiar though, so I need your help remembering."

Galmar stared at his brother. "Gods damn it, Rolff, why didn't you speak up sooner. What's the woman's name?"

Finverior held his breath. Shit . . .

"Lassa-something or other. It definitely started with a 'Lass.'"

Galmar's eyes narrowed. "Was it Lassarina?"

"Aye! That's it! Now why does that sound familiar."

Galmar cursed loudly and shoved his brother towards the exit. "Lock down the city. No one gets in or out. If anyone sees her I want her brought to the palace immediately!"

Galmar and Rolff left the prison and Finverior walked back to the cell door, his brows furrowed in confusion. Why was the general so desperate to get Lassarina into custody? From what he gathered it sounded like she was in a heap of trouble and started to wonder if she had any previous felonies.

Wait a minute, he suddenly realized. Maybe this has something to do with her being Dragonborn.

It made a lot of sense when he thought about it. There was a war going on in Skyrim and what would benefit either side more than having the Dragonborn fighting for them? He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. Finverior was beginning to regret some aspects to this little partnership he had with Lassarina.

Suddenly the guard watching the cell block grunted in pain and Finverior looked over at him just in time to watch him fall to the ground. He gripped the bars of his cell, alarmed, but relaxed when a familiar black-garbed figure appeared out of thin air.

"Please tell me you didn't kill him this time," Finverior begged. "Not that being banned from Windhelm would be so bad."

"Nay, I just knocked him out," Lassarina told him casually as she took the ring of keys from the guards belt and jogged over to his cell.

"Did you even leave?"

"I was going to, but I nearly ran into Galmar and had to do my little invisibility trick. Then I just followed him and stood in the corner until he left." The lock clicked and Lassarina opened the cell. "There we are, you're free to go."

Finverior rolled his eyes and stepped out of the cell, walking over to the chest that no doubt held his belongings. "How about next time you get arrested and I bail you out?"

Lassarina laughed and helped him take some things from the chest. "Finn, you and I both know that's never going to happen. There's a reason I'm master of the Thieves Guild. I'm the best. I never get caught."

"Yeah, yeah, let's just get out of here. Gods know how we're going to get out of the city."

"Don't worry, we don't have to leave right away. I know a place we can hide until things start to calm down."

He gave her a look but said nothing as he followed her out of the prison and out into the streets. She led him through the Gray-Quarter, past several Dunmer who were moving out of their way as they rushed until finally they reached a strange house that was built hovering over the street. As she picked the lock, Finverior kept a look out for any guards.

"We're breaking into a house?" he demanded.

"Aye, it's abandoned until the owner comes of age and can inherit it. No one will come looking for us in here."

The lock clicked and she opened the door so they could get in, locking it behind them. He climbed up the steps behind Lassarina and looked around at the dusty and messy living area. But the mess didn't bother him as much as the foul smell that hung in the air.

"What in Oblivion is that stench?" he asked, covering his mouth and nose with one hand.

"From what I heard the guards say, the kid that lived here was performing the Black Sacrament," she explained. "It worked too, since I know who he was targeting and that she is dead."

"Who'd he target?"

"The matron of the orphanage in Riften. Take it from someone who's lived there, that evil old hag will not be missed."

With a heavy sigh he dropped his bags and walked over to the small bed against the wall. "How long are we supposed to stay here?"

"Well, I stole some food that was lying around Ulfric's chambers as well as his valuables, so we could survive a few days. Wait until things calm down. When they see that you're missing they might just assume we left the city."

"So hopefully we'll only be here a couple of days."

"Aye, hopefully. If not, I'll figure something out."

Guess we're going to have some time to kill, Finverior thought to himself as he pulled out his skooma pipe and several vials of the drug itself.

Lassarina was already eye-balling the stuff and finally pulled off her hood and mask. "You going to share any of that?"

He arched a brow and smirked at her. "Why do you think I'm grinding some of the crystals down? You seem to enjoy that method the best."

"Hits you a lot harder and faster." She sat on the bed next to him and bit down on a finger. "Hurry up."

"Calm your tits, woman. I'm making sure it's all powder. Last thing you want it a piece of crystal lodged in your nostril."

He ground the crystals down into a fine powder and set up a thin line on the flat of his dagger. Moving it over to Lassarina, Finverior could barely contain his laughter as she bent over and snorted the ground skooma up her nose. She wiped off whatever residue was left on her nose and rubbed it against her gums.

"Thank you," she giggled sweetly.

Finverior snorted and shook his head. "Crazy Nord." He snorted a line himself and rubbed the leftover powder into his own gums before looking back at Lassarina. "So tell me, does Galmar want you apprehended so badly because you've pulled a string of crimes in the city, or is my educated guess correct and they want you brought in because you're Dragonborn?"

Lassarina gave him a bored look and set up the pipe. "Why are you asking me that now? Light this up, would you?"

"Because you're very chatty when you've had skooma and I'm exploiting it to my advantage," he explained as he called forth a Flames spell to one finger and held it over the little chamber the skooma crystals were jammed into. "Trying to learn the mystery that is Lassarina."

She inhaled a lot of the smoke and held it in a couple of moments before blowing it in his face. "Haha, you're so funny." Finverior took the pipe from her and she shifted further onto the bed so she could lean against the wall. "But your guess is pretty much right. The Dragonborn is a valuable commodity in war-times."

"Ulfric Stormcloak is full of himself if he thinks he can just order you to fight for him."

"He seems to think I'm obligated to fight for him."

He took a puff from the pipe and blew out the smoke. "And why's that?"

"Because I am who I am. Lassarina, a thief from Riften with her two brothers riding her ass and a head filled with bad memories. Call it bad luck I guess."

Finverior nodded thoughtfully and took another puff, coughing loudly when her words finally registered. "Wait a moment, did you say two brothers?"

She stiffened a bit, but shrugged a shoulder and nodded. "Aye, I guess I did. Whoops."

"Are they both in Whiterun or something?"

"Nay, just the one I actually care about is in Whiterun. The other one . . ." she sighed heavily and rested her head against her drawn up knee. "The other one is here in Windhelm."

"Shit, no wonder you haven't taken off your mask." He paused. "It's not Galmar is it? Cause the man is old enough to be your grandfather."

"Nay, it's not Galmar, but Galmar does work with my brother, or rather, for him."

Finverior fell silent and thought really hard about it. Galmar is general of the Stormcloaks. He's basically at the top. Who in Oblivion could he possibly answer–

That's when it hit him. "Your brother is Ulfric Stormcloak?"

Lassarina gave him a nervous chuckle. "See? Bad luck."

* * *

_This Chapter was written by _**_Mirage159._**

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more of Lassarina and Finverior's adventures through Skyrim! Make sure to **Fave/Follow/Review **and as always, we appreciate the support and love we get from our loyal readers!_


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